Aelius had decided to have a little fun with his path. There were eight paths in total, one for each participant. Four would lead to one of the S-Class mages waiting at the end, and four would end with two teams forced to fight for the right to move on. His path was obvious. It felt right in a way he didn't want to think too hard about. If someone drew his path, they deserved to know what they were walking into. Not with a warning sign or some dramatic speech, but with something quieter, something that sank into their bones before they ever reached him. So he decorated.
After setting the proper wards and runes, layered carefully into the stone markers and tree lines so nothing would spread beyond the designated boundary, he let his magic seep outward. It didn't explode or lash out. It bled into the space, slow and steady, like ink dropped into water. The change was gradual at first. The soil darkened. The air thickened. The clean scent of Tenrou's forests twisted into something heavier, something damp and old.
For all intents and purposes, the path was now a swamp.
The air hung thick with wetness that wasn't quite wet, clinging to the lungs without ever forming into mist. The ground softened underfoot, not enough to swallow someone whole but enough that every step would sink just slightly deeper than expected. Mud clung without being sticky, dragging at boots and hems like something reluctant to let go. The trees remained standing tall and solid, but their bark darkened and warped in subtle ways, grooves deepening into shapes that almost looked intentional if you stared too long. Roots pushed up through the soil in uneven ridges, like old bones just beneath the surface.
Nothing about it was lethal. That part mattered. He made sure of that. No toxic fumes, no hidden sinkholes, no creeping decay that would rot flesh from bone. The wards made certain the magic stayed contained and stable. Anyone who entered would leave alive.
Probably.
It wasn't meant to kill. It was meant to wear people down, to make them uncomfortable, to make them hesitate. To make them understand that not a single part of them is worthy, or ready for the risk of being an S-Class mage.
The deeper parts of the path grew thicker, the ground giving way more with each step. Patches of shallow, stagnant water formed in low points, dark and still without reflecting much of anything. Even the sounds of the forest felt muted here. Birds didn't land in the trees. Insects didn't buzz through the air. The usual life of Tenrou stopped just short of the boundary like it knew better.
Aelius stood near the end of the path, watching the slow transformation settle into place. The last threads of magic drifted from his fingers and sank into the earth, completing the effect. The space felt… right. Not good or comforting, just right in the same way the last piece of a puzzle finally locking into place felt right.
He shifted his weight slightly, boots pressing into the softened ground without sinking. The mud didn't cling to him the way it would to anyone else. It parted around him naturally, like it recognized its source.
He wasn't exactly sure why he was leaning into the whole rot aspect of things. That part sat in the back of his mind, quiet but persistent. There were other ways he could have designed the path. Stone, ash, something cold and lifeless instead of damp and clinging. But this was what had come naturally. And he didn't know why it suddenly felt so comfortable.
He chalked it up to blowing off steam after Mira had ruined what had been a perfectly peaceful boat ride. That explanation was simple, easy, and most importantly, it didn't require him to think any deeper than that.
He crouched slightly, dragging his fingers through the mud. It shifted easily under his touch, smoother than it should have been, leaving shallow grooves that slowly filled back in.
Someone would walk through this. Probably several people. Natsu, if he was feeling dumber than usual. Maybe Gray. Cana, if she drew the short end of the stick. Levy if fate was feeling particularly cruel or if the bookworm was feeling brave.
They'd struggle through it. Slip a little. Get tired faster than they expected. By the time they reached the end, they'd already be worn down before the real fight even started. That was the point. S Class wasn't supposed to be fair; he had the personal pleasure of knowing firsthand that Gildarts's Magic could crush his.
He stood again, brushing his hand off against his cloak. The mud still didn't stick. The trees creaked faintly as a breeze tried to pass through and failed to move much of anything. The thick air swallowed the motion before it could travel far.
For a moment, he just stood there, listening to the quiet. It wasn't peaceful quiet like the boat ride had been. This quiet had weight to it. The kind that pressed in from all sides, filling the gaps between breaths. He found he didn't mind it. Didn't mind it at all.
After a while, he moved to the center clearing where the path ended. No tricks here. No traps. Just a stretch of soft ground and enough space to fight properly. He leaned back against one of the darker trees, folding his arms as he looked out over the path.
Whoever came through would see him eventually. A dark shape waiting at the end of a long, miserable walk. A final obstacle. He tilted his head slightly, thinking. He had already said that on principle alone, he wasn't going to let anyone pass. Not unless they proved they deserved it. And honestly, he didn't think they would.
The final touch was something out of place, but fitting enough for his little slice of… whatever someone wanted to call it. A throne of plague. Or a pseudo throne, at least. A seat grown up from the softened earth itself, swollen ridges and rounded lumps pushing upward into something that resembled a chair if someone squinted hard enough. The surface shifted faintly, not alive, not really, but not entirely still either. It bulged in places like boils beneath skin, rounded and uneven, the texture wrong in a way that made the eye linger too long trying to understand it. It looked unpleasant, which was exactly the point.
Aelius sat on it without hesitation, settling back into the uneven surface like it had been made for him, which in a way it had. The softened mass shifted slightly under his weight before stilling, the faint movement stopping as if it had recognized him. He adjusted once, then didn't move again, one leg crossing over the other as he rested his head against his palm. The pose wasn't natural to him, not really, but he'd picked it up years ago watching Alaric's father sit through long meetings, looking bored and distant while lesser men talked themselves in circles. A king's posture for tedious moments. It had stuck with him for whatever reason.
From where he sat, he could see down the length of the path. Twisted trees, sagging ground, patches of dark water sitting still between exposed roots. The air hung thick and unmoving, pressing down without quite suffocating. It felt complete now. Enclosed. Separate from the rest of the island in a way that went beyond the wards carved into the boundaries.
He was content to wait.
If he had his timing right, they had maybe three hours at most before the others arrived. Enough time for the rest of the examiners to finish their own preparations. Enough time for the contestants to land and get briefed and start pretending they weren't nervous.
Enough time to sit. He let his eyes drift half-lidded, not sleeping, just letting time pass without thinking too hard about anything. The swamp didn't make much noise. The occasional shift of softened earth. The faint creak of bark. The subtle pull of magic settling deeper into the ground.
Peaceful, in its own way. So of course It didn't last.
He heard the movement before he saw her. Footsteps that didn't belong to someone unfamiliar with rough terrain. Careful, controlled, steady. Not a contestant stumbling through unfamiliar ground. Not someone guessing their way forward.
He didn't move as she came into view between the trees. Not one of the contestants. Instead of one of them.
"Scarlet," he said flatly. "Shouldn't you be waiting on your own path?"
She stepped fully into the clearing, boots sinking just slightly into the softened ground before holding firm. Her eyes moved over the space quickly, taking in the trees, the ground, the throne, him. Her expression didn't change much, but there was tension sitting in her shoulders that hadn't been there before.
"They haven't even landed yet. We have time," she said curtly.
She stopped a short distance away, posture straightening as she drew herself up, like she was bracing for something. The rigidity set in a second later, the kind that came when she'd already decided this conversation was going to happen whether he liked it or not.
"Aelius," she said, voice tightening just slightly, "I think you went too far with Mira."
"No. Leave," Aelius said simply. "I'm not dealing with one of your lectures. I was justified. You heard the entire conversation. But I refuse to deal with you. Not everyone's problems are able to be fixed, and you don't have to try. Leave me be."
He didn't shift from where he sat. Didn't uncross his legs. Didn't lift his head from his palm. The words came out flat and final, like the conversation was already over on his end.
She didn't move. Of course she didn't. The silence stretched for a few seconds, thick as the air around them. The swamp seemed to swallow the space between them, the damp heaviness pressing in without either of them acknowledging it.
Her eyes moved over him again, slower this time. The mask. The cloak. The way he sat like he belonged there, like this place belonged to him.
"You hurt her," she said finally.
"Yes," he said.
"She's still crying."
He shrugged slightly, a small motion of one shoulder. "Not my problem."
Her jaw tightened at that, just barely.
"You didn't have to say all of that."
"Yes, I did." This time he lifted his head a little, just enough that he was looking at her properly. Even through the mask, the focus was obvious.
"She never wanted forgiveness," he said. "She wanted to feel better. That's what that was about. Not me."
"She is sorry."
"Good for her."
The words came out sharp and flat at the same time, like the edge had been worn into them instead of added on top.
"That doesn't fix anything."
Erza took a step forward without seeming to realize she'd done it, boots pressing deeper into the softened ground.
"You're part of this guild," she said. "Whether you like it or not. That means something."
He let out a quiet breath through his nose, something close to a humorless laugh.
"No," he said. "It doesn't. Not for this"
The swamp shifted faintly around them, a slow settling motion in the ground that had nothing to do with either of them.
"People don't get to just hurt someone and then decide it means something later," he continued. "That's not how it works."
"She made a mistake."
"She made a choice." The correction came instantly.
Erza straightened slightly, her hands curling at her sides before forcing themselves to relax again. "She's trying," she said.
"I. Don't. Care," he said slowly. That was the part she didn't have an answer for. It hung there between them, blunt and immovable. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Aelius shifted slightly on the throne, the uneven surface adjusting under him before going still again. He rested his head back against his palm, posture settling back into that lazy, distant pose like the conversation had already ended twice over.
"Leave," he said again, sterner this time. "I mean it." She stood there for another few seconds, tension holding her in place. Then, finally yet slowly, she turned.
The ground tried to hold her boots for half a second before letting go as she walked back the way she'd come, disappearing between the trees without another word.
The swamp settled again once she was gone. The quiet came back, thick and heavy and familiar. didn't move from the throne, he refused to dwell on that, or her, any more than he needed to. He didnt trust himself not to spiral if he did.
The others would be arriving soon. He crossed his leg a little tighter over the other and let his head rest heavier against his palm. And waited.
Fortunately, it was about an hour later when he felt someone else enter his path. Actually, two people. The moment they crossed the boundary of the wards, he felt it, the subtle disturbance like ripples across still water. His magic didn't lash out at them or react violently; it simply noticed them. The enclosed space making their presence impossible to miss. Two separate signatures, moving unevenly as they pushed into the swamp. Familiar ones.
He didn't even have to think about it as the words slipped out of his mouth, "Did they draw lots?" he muttered to himself, shifting slightly on the throne, "or is she just stupid?"
Levy and Gajeel. He'd been told by Gildarts just after they landed, that each participant could choose a partner, something Aelius had initially dismissed as unnecessary until it was explained that not all of them were to become S-class themselves. Some were there as support, as backup, or because someone stronger had chosen them specifically. Aelius hadn't cared much beyond that. It wasn't his concern who paired with whom, only who ended up walking down his path.
Still, Levy and Gajeel felt… odd. He would've imagined she'd be wary, considering their first meeting. A steel Crucifixion and iron bars through the body tended to leave an impression on people. But time passed, people adapted, and Fairy Tail had always had a strange way of sanding down the edges of monsters until they fit inside the guild hall like anyone else.
He wasn't a babysitter, though, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start policing friendships. If someone wanted to forgive a person who nailed them to a tree, that was their business. He wasn't their keeper.
Unless they were genuinely evil. Like Nehzhar.
The thought came sharp and uninvited, and he pushed it aside just as quickly. The irony wasn't lost on him anyway. He'd been friends with Nehzhar once, or something close enough to count. So, judging other people for questionable company felt a bit hollow.
His attention drifted back to the present as Levy stumbled again somewhere deeper in the swamp. He could feel it through the ground, the uneven shift of weight as her foot sank deeper than she expected. The mud sucked faintly at every step they took, thick and resistant without actually trapping them. It forced them to work for every inch, made them think about where they stepped instead of just charging forward.
Gajeel moved more steadily, heavier steps but more certain ones, each footfall pressing down hard enough that the softened ground compacted beneath him before slowly rising back up after he passed. Levy's were lighter, quicker, but far less stable.
He could feel every step. Every shift. Every stumble. Every curse and muttered complaint as they pushed forward.
Levy herself had quite a creative mouth on her when the ground swallowed her foot up to the ankle for the third time in as many minutes. The words came out quick and sharp before she caught herself, like she'd forgotten she was supposed to be composed. Gajeel's responses were lower and rougher, harder to make out at this distance, but the tone alone carried enough meaning.
They were struggling. And that was the point. The air itself slowed them down, thick and heavy in the lungs, forcing deeper breaths than normal. Not enough to exhaust them outright, but enough to wear at the edges. The trees forced them into a winding path, whether they liked it or not, roots twisting up from the ground in uneven ridges that caught at their footing if they stopped paying attention for even a second.
Nothing lethal. Nothing even truly dangerous. Just unpleasant and difficult.
Aelius didn't move from the throne as they drew closer. He could've stood. Could've hidden his presence, or made himself known. Could've let them wander longer. But that defeated the point. If someone walked this path, they were meant to reach him eventually. Meant to understand exactly what they'd signed up for.
He adjusted slightly, recrossing his leg and letting his elbow rest more heavily against the arm of the swollen throne. The surface shifted faintly under the movement before settling again, the magic holding it in shape without making it rigid.
They were close enough now that he could hear them clearly. The wet pull of mud releasing boots. The faint splash of shallow water being stepped through. The quiet rustle of fabric brushing against low hanging branches. Levy cursed again under her breath as the ground shifted unexpectedly beneath her, and this time he actually let out a quiet huff of amusement.
Which turned out to be a mistake.
The sound carried farther than he intended, muffled though it was by the thick air of the swamp. It wasn't loud, but it was enough. Enough to confirm what they were already suspecting. Enough to tell them exactly where to look.
They broke through the trees a second later.
Gajeel didn't hesitate. His arm shifted and twisted, iron grinding into shape as it reformed into a cannon, and the shot came almost instantly after. No warning, no shouting, no dramatic windup. Just a sharp metallic crack as the cannon fired straight at Aelius' head.
If he hadn't already had an aegis up, it would have taken it clean off.
The cannonball slammed into the translucent film of sickly colored magic an inch from his face and detonated on impact, the force rippling outward across the curved surface of the shield. The plague aegis flexed lightly under the impact before rebounding, the explosion dispersing outward in a dull shockwave that stirred the humid air and rattled the nearby trees. The throne shifted faintly beneath him but held together, the magic reinforcing it without needing conscious effort.
Aelius didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't move at all, really.
The last scraps of smoke and fragmented iron slid off the surface of the shield and dropped uselessly into the mud below.
"Element of surprise," he said flatly. "I assume that was Levy's idea?" His head tilted just slightly, enough that he was clearly looking at them both now. "All offense intended, but you strike me as a Natsu clone," he continued. "All brawn and no brain."
The aegis still didn't drop. It hung there between them, curved and faintly shimmering, the surface still faintly disturbed from the impact. The magic feeding into it was steady, effortless, like holding it there required about as much thought as breathing.
Up close to the heart, the swamp felt worse.
The ground shifted faintly under every movement. The air clung damply to skin and clothing. The trees loomed just a little too close at the edges of the clearing, their bark dark and uneven in ways that didn't quite look natural even when they weren't moving.
And at the center of it all, Aelius sat on his swollen throne like he'd been expecting them for hours.
Which, of course he had.
"You could've at least tried to sneak," he went on. "Walking straight down the center was a bit optimistic." His gaze settled on Levy for a moment. "Though I suppose subtlety was never really your thing."
Then back to Gajeel. "You at least I expected to try hitting me first," he said. "So congratulations. Expectations met."
They didn't respond. Three sets of eyes and not a single one of them moved.
"Nothing to say?" Aelius asked simply. "Not going to try and leverage our friendship, or maybe appeal to my sense of camaraderie. Me and Gajeel have already fought and he lost. And you, Levy…." He didn't finish the sentence, though his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than they had on Gajeel, like there was something there he had meant to say and chose not to. Instead he leaned his head a little more heavily into his palm, posture loose, casual, completely at odds with the thick, oppressive magic saturating the clearing. "You're smart enough to know how this ends. That's what surprises me. Not that you came here, but that you stayed on this path once you realized it was mine."
Gajeel shifted first, iron scraping faintly as his arm relaxed from the cannon form but didn't return fully to normal, metal still layered over his skin in a way that made it obvious he wasn't letting his guard down for even a second. His eyes moved over the clearing, over the throne, over the aegis, over the ground itself like he was measuring distances and angles and traction all at once. Levy, on the other hand, was watching Aelius directly, her breathing still slightly uneven from the walk through the swamp but her eyes sharp, calculating, taking in details instead of reacting to the pressure in the air. That alone earned the faintest twitch at the corner of Aelius' mouth.
"Not much to say," Gajeel said finally, voice low and rough. "We knew it would be you."
"And you came anyway," Aelius replied. "So either that's bravery or stupidity. Still undecided."
Levy stepped slightly forward then, boots making a soft sucking sound in the mud before she stilled again, clearly deciding not to get any closer than she already was. "It's the trials," she said, like that explained everything, like that was reason enough on its own.
Aelius hummed faintly at that, eyes half lidding. "Yes. They are."
The swamp shifted faintly around them, not moving in any obvious way, but settling, the same way something alive might adjust its weight. The air pressed just a little heavier against their lungs, the dampness clinging tighter to skin and cloth, every breath tasting faintly metallic and sour.
"And you picked him," Aelius went on after a moment, glancing between them. "That part I'll admit surprised me. First impressions and all that. Most people don't get over attempted murder so easily."
Gajeel snorted. "You one to talk about first impressions."
"Fair," Aelius responded.
Levy didn't smile, but something in her expression shifted slightly, like she understood that tone, that rhythm, enough to recognize that he wasn't entirely joking.
"You're making this worse on purpose," she said after a moment.
"Yes," Aelius said immediately.
That actually made her hesitate.
He tilted his head slightly. "You're supposed to be convincing me. Or distracting me. Or analyzing the environment. Or something equally clever. Instead you're talking."
"We are analyzing it," Levy said.
His eyes flicked to the ground around them, then back to her. "And?"
She didn't answer right away. Which was answer enough.
Aelius sighed softly through his nose and uncrossed his legs, though he didn't stand yet. "Well. This has been nostalgic," he said. "But unless you plan to surrender, we should probably move this along."
He rose at last, slow and unhurried, and the shimmer of his aegis faded with him. The translucent film collapsed in on itself and vanished like mist burning off in sunlight. Beneath him, the throne gave a wet, collapsing sound as it lost its structure, sloughing downward into thick sludge that pooled around his boots. The swollen shapes sank first, then the backrest, then the armrests, until there was nothing left but a disturbed patch of viscous muck that slowly settled back into the rest of the swamp.
He stood there a moment, letting the last of it sink, cloak hanging heavy and still around him.
"I'll be honest then," he said. "Neither of you are even close to S class. None of the participants are. In fact, if I had my way, I'd demote Strauss and Scarlet. They…" He paused slightly. "At least Scarlet is close. But beyond that, no one else."
He shifted his shoulders, adjusting the cloak where it rested, then lifted his head fully to look at them. The mask made the motion feel sharper than it was, the blank gaze turning the simple act of eye contact into something colder than it should've been.
"Fortunately it's not up to me," he went on. "So I'll cut you a break. Or half of one."
He stepped forward once, boots sinking slightly into the softened ground before settling. "No magic."
The swamp didn't recede, didn't vanish, but it stopped pressing. The subtle influence of it dulled, like something held on a leash instead of roaming freely. The air was still thick. The ground was still unstable. But it wasn't actively shifting anymore.
"You both fight me," he said. "If you can win, or force me to heal, then you pass."
He rolled one shoulder slowly, then the other, like he was loosening up more than preparing.
"Otherwise," he said, "you fail." There was no dramatic stance. No flourish of a weapon drawn. Just him standing there, waiting.
Gajeel didn't move immediately, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied him. Levy glanced between them both, clearly thinking, clearly measuring something.
"You're serious," she said.
"Yes."
"No magic at all?"
Aelius tilted his head slightly. "Do you want me to use it?"
She hesitated. Gajeel stepped forward instead. boot sinking slightly before pulling free with a wet sound. His iron scales crept a little lower down his arms, not disappearing yet, just ready in case they decided they had a better chance with magic, than without.
"You always talk this much before a fight?" he asked.
"Only when I'm bored," Aelius said.
Gajeel snorted, then moved. Fast. Not entirely reckless like Natsu would've been, not straight down the middle. He angled slightly to the side, forcing Aelius to turn, forcing him to track both him and Levy at once instead of letting them stay in a single line.
Better than before. Aelius noted it as he stepped back, boots dragging slightly through the softened ground. "Better. When we first fought, you were little more than an animal."
Gajeel's lip curled, but he did not snap back with words this time. He lunged instead, tight and controlled, driving in close rather than swinging wide. His elbow came in sharp toward Aelius's ribs.
Aelius moved inside the motion. His fist shot up and struck the inside of Gajeel's elbow with precise timing. The impact snapped the joint off its line and stole the force from the strike before it could fully land.
Gajeel hissed through his teeth, shifting immediately, trying to convert the broken motion into a shoulder check.
Aelius stepped back just enough that the charge skimmed past him. His hand caught Gajeel by the upper arm and turned with the momentum, redirecting rather than stopping it. The ground sucked at Gajeel's boots as he stumbled two steps forward before wrenching himself free and pivoting around.
Levy came in then.
Not from the front. From the blind side.
Her strike was not heavy. It was fast and aimed for the base of the neck. Aelius dipped his chin and rolled his shoulder into it, absorbing the blow along the thicker part of his cloak and muscle beneath. The impact landed solidly enough to matter.
He turned with her, hand snapping out to catch her wrist before she could retreat. His grip was firm but not crushing. He pulled her a half step forward and forced Gajeel to hesitate rather than charge blindly.
Levy twisted sharply, dropping her weight and rotating her wrist instead of trying to yank free. The shift broke his grip. She slid out and retreated three quick steps, breathing steady but eyes sharp.
Gajeel did not rush this time. He circled.
Aelius adjusted his footing again, testing the ground with subtle pressure. The swamp no longer shifted under command, but it was still treacherous. Every step had to be measured.
Gajeel came in low.
A straight punch to the abdomen meant to force a guard, followed immediately by a rising strike toward the jaw. A simple combination. Brutal and efficient.
Aelius blocked the first with his forearm, feeling the raw strength behind it. The second he avoided by turning his head just enough that the knuckles grazed his cheek instead of connecting clean. He responded instantly, driving his palm into Gajeel's sternum. The impact was painful. Gajeel staggered back a step, breath hitching, but he did not fall.
Levy moved again, this time aiming for Aelius's knee. A precise, calculated strike meant to compromise balance. Aelius shifted his weight at the last instant, letting her kick glance off the outside of his leg instead of collapsing the joint.
He retaliated with a short backhand aimed at her shoulder.
She barely avoided it. Barely. The cloth of her sleeve tore under his knuckles as she twisted away.
They separated again. Aelius rolled his shoulders once, not even breathing too hard, like this was all just a leisurely stroll. "You are thinking now," he said. "That is progress."
Gajeel spat to the side, eyes locked on him. "Shut up."
Aelius inclined his head slightly.
"Then make me."